The Loss of Love
by Lina Cross
Summary: A half-elf manages to steal a dragon egg and decides hiding in plain sight is the best option. But after tangling with the dark prince, Murtagh, more than a few times, she's forced to flee to the Varden. Rewrite of an older fic. R&R!
1. Thieves in the Night

I do not own Eragon or any of the Inheritance Trilogy.

However, Linea, Eloni, Distul, and the rest at the beginning are my own.

WARNING: Some of those gibberish words are, in fact, gibberish. I had no idea what some of the Ancient Language words were, so I made some up. If you haven't noticed, they don't have a full English-To-Ancient Language dictionary at the back of the books.

Heads up: Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr = Peace live in your heart

Un du evarínya ono varda = May the stars watch over you

Atra esterní ono thelduin = May good fortune rule over you

Enjoy, and please review!

**. . .**

The words flowed from his mouth like a crystal river. "Ick noko ai durna mai dentia morn nocten. Ek densia barzul nafteth!"

The wall before him rose, but only partially. That was as much as he could do. Being an elf, he had the ability to use magic since birth, much stronger than any human could. That didn't mean he could do anything. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he struggled to keep the wall up until the last man ran through.

"Distul! Go through!" one of them shouted. With a cry of release, he let go of the magic and slipped through the hole as the brick closed in on him.

There was much heavy breathing all around, the elf nearly collapsing. Suddenly, there was a cry of, "We did it! I can't believe it, we did it!"

There was some half-hearted cheering as the small collection of beings continued to catch their breath. Unfortunately, there was an alarm sounding from behind them within the fort. "Run!" the leader shouted in his deep voice. The humans and elves ran away from the place as quick as they could, elves getting ahead of the humans. "Linea, that means you, too!" he called as the half-elf stayed where she was.

"What are you going to do?" she asked as the watch-dogs were heard from beyond the wall.

"Hold them off! Get out of here!" Distul called.

"I'm not leaving you!"

"Linea, they need you more than I in this world. There is nothing more I can do to redeem myself than die saving the people I love. Let me do this." His black eyes stared into her deep green ones, and she fought within herself. She hated to leave him. She knew his death would quickly follow the arrival of the guards. But she also knew the others would need her. She was second in command. She needed to take his place.

"Go!" he shouted, a blue light beginning to emanate from his palms. "I won't say it again!"

Linea hesitated a second longer, but only to kiss her love goodbye. "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr." she murmured.

"Un du evarínya ono varda." he whispered back as the calls and shouts of soldiers were heard. Linea took off for the forest after her friends, running as fast as her legs could carry her, if only to escape the pain, the hurt. The death. She ran until she felt she could no longer continue, she ran until her legs burned, she ran until her lungs felt as though they were about to burst. She ran until she burst into the clearing where her fellow burglars sat awaiting their two missing companions.

"Linea! There you are! Where is Distul?" asked Drenna, a human female.

Linea just shook her head as she collapsed in a breathless heap from her over-use of magic and headlong run. Then, unbidden tears formed in her eyes, spilling over as she listened to the cries and shouts from behind her.

The others understood. They always knew, somehow, it would come to this. They bowed their heads in reverence to the elf who'd lead them so far for so long. Beyond the canopy of leaves above them, the sun began its ascent into the sky, turning everything a mournful gray.

After an hour of respectful mourning, Cale, a human male, stepped forward, placing his hand on the new leader's shoulder. She was on her knees, head bent in anguish. "We need a plan. We have the egg. What say you?"

After a few shaky breaths, Linea closed her eyes and spoke. "It was always part of the plan to hand the egg off to the leader for them to hide it, keep it safe. I'll do this. As for all of you, the Empire doesn't know your faces. Scatter. Find a place to live in quiet. You don't have to live like this anymore."

But the others just stood, still looking at her. They didn't want to leave. They didn't want to suddenly abandon the only real life they'd ever known. Linea sighed, getting to her feet. She approached an elf male and a human female. "Lastry, Riley, go to Teirm, or Dras Leona. Make yourselves a living. Buy a home. Have children. And go with my blessing."

"Dorrin," She turned, addressing the human male. "Go to Surda. They'll protect you from the Empire. Don't be afraid, you'll be safe there."

"Trisanda, go back to Du Weldenvarden. Take Esla and Brie. Tell Izlanzadi what's happened and what has become of the egg as well as you know."

"All of you, please. Turn from this life of crime, lies, and deceit. It will get you as far as winning once and then you're running forever. Go. Atra esterní ono thelduin."

"Un du evarínya ono varda." they responded in unison. Reluctantly, they turned and exited the forest in whatever direction held their destination. Except for one young human female. She had been the youngest of the group, no more than fourteen. But she had proven herself by use of blade.

"What is it, Rebecca?" Linea asked.

"You speak with authority and conviction, but do you know where it is you will escape to?" she asked. She'd always been a wise girl. Linea would miss her most, if not for Distul.

"I know. Go with Dorrin for now. I hate to leave you on your own, but I know you two are close. Good luck." the half-elf told her.

"As well to you." she responded, turning to join the brown-haired human.

Linea watched them go, melancholy filling her heart. She knew what she must do now. She lifted the bright, silver egg, placing it into her pack. It was warm to the touch, and nearly breathing magic. She needed to take it someplace safe, someplace remote. And somewhere the Empire would never think to look.

The weight of the egg and a heavy heart pressing upon her, she began her journey. It would be long, and probably filled with danger, but it would somehow be worth it in the end. It had to be. There was nothing else. Destination in mind, the Elf took her first steps north.

To Urû`baen.


	2. Warrior in the Capital

She had some explaining to do.

But how could she talk herself out of carrying around the remnants of a dragon egg in her leather pack? It might be easier than expected, as the guard didn't seem to know what exactly he was looking at, but that was also the problem. She couldn't just make up anything.

Linea had been in a town on the outskirts of Urû`baen, so close to her destination, looking to replenish her food supplies. A guard had seen the silver dragon egg-shells fall out of her bag as she searched for payment, and had questioned her about how she'd gotten them.

"I broke a vase of my mother's." Linea lied quickly.

"Why would you be carrying around garbage?" he asked, confused. He didn't seem like he wanted to cause trouble, only curious.

"_Garbage_?" she snapped, snatching the pieces back. As long as she was lying, she might as well play the part. "Sir, this was my _mother's_! She's been gone a while now! As in, gone to 'up there'." She pointed at the sky. "Sir, this is the only thing I have of her! I couldn't throw it out."

The guard looked at her sympathetically, offered his apologies about her fake mother, and moved on to observe a group of young people at a different stand. Linea let out a breath, deciding to forgo the food and simply leave. That had been a very close call.

After around two weeks of traveling, Linea had felt a rattling from her bag. She opened it, and the silver egg had tumbled out and onto the ground. Slightly wary, she'd watched the egg expectantly. It rocked and rattled, and there were tiny tapping noises coming from the inside. The half-elf had stared, wondering if she had somehow damaged the egg during her travels.

Then, wonder of wonders, it _hatched_! A small, scaly head had poked out from the shell, shining even brighter than the egg had. Cautiously, so cautiously, she'd bent to pick up the struggling creature. The second her skin came in contact with its wet nose, a burning sensation raced up her arm.

She knew, in that moment, a great honor had been bestowed upon her. Somehow, she, Linea of Bullridge, bandit and outcast, had been made a Dragon Rider.

Deciding it would be grossly unsafe if she traveled to Urû`baen with the freshly hatched dragon, she waited a year, learning from it and vise-verse. She learned it was a male, and named it Eloni, after her grandfather. The dragon grew rapidly in size and intelligence, quickly surpassing Linea in knowledge. Even after that year, she was still shocked that she'd been chosen. A hole she'd carried within her since Distul's death seemed to shrink just a little.

But, when she felt confident that Eloni knew enough to be hidden and avoid residents of a given village, she decided to revert to her original plan of going to Urû`baen. She'd had far too many encounters with the Empire for several lifetimes, and wanted to get back at them for it. Hiding a dragon under the king's nose seemed to be the perfect slap in the face.

So, as she bade farewell, to the merchant, she sent Eloni a mental picture of her current position, and headed off to the royal city to the east.

_We have come so far_, he said to her as he flew overhead.

_You don't even know where we began_, she answered.

_I know where I did, and that is enough for now. You will, in time, reveal to me what is behind your locked doors, though._

Linea grimaced. Even though Eloni was the only one with full access to her mind, she'd blocked even him from the disastrous plan to rescue him from Galbatorix's stronghold. She was intent on keeping that a secret, though she knew she would want to divulge it at some point.

"There it is." she murmured to herself. Urû`baen was a giant city by the Ramr River. It was the capital of Alagaesia, and it was home to King Galbatorix himself.

Of course, her outlandish clothing would be unwanted here, where the women wore dresses instead of tunics and leggings. Linea ignored the glances, though, and explored the city. She'd never seen a place this big and busy in her life, as her group generally avoided large towns and her step-mother had been on the overprotective side, forbidding her from leaving Bullridge. She wove her way through the crowds, attempting to find a decent inn to stay until she could figure out what to do next.

Suddenly, the crowd began to part down the middle, as though to allow a carriage through. Someone was shouting from the center lane, and it took Linea a moment to figure out is was a herald of some sort. "Make way! Make way! You there! Back up!" snapped the unseen man. Linea continued to push her way to the front of the crowd to see who was passing, when all at once she was stumbling out into the cleared area just as a massive, black war horse came within inches of herself. She stumbled, surprised, and fell backward. The man on the horse looked down at her, the visor on his helmet down so she couldn't see his face. He stopped his horse, and they simply looked at one another for a moment.

"Well?" he said, voice sounding muffled because of the helmet. "Will you speak for your actions? A peasant who wishes to halt a procession must be punished severely, as I'm sure you're aware."

"No! Please!" called someone within the crowd. A young man pushed his way forward and helped the stunned half-elf to her feet. "Please, sir, she didn't mean anything by it. She's my sister, you see. And, well, she's not quite right in the head." He looked Linea in the eye, an intense expression on his face. "Alya, _what_ have we told you about wandering off?"

She blinked, then understood. "But the horsey..."

"No. No horsies for you, Alya, you've been a bad girl." He turned back to the man on the horse. "Thank the gods you found her, we were looking everywhere."

"Very well," said the man impatiently. "Just keep her close. I don't need simpletons keeping me from my duties. Onward!"

The procession continued past, and the crowds went back to their business as though this were a regular occurrence.

_Is everything okay? _Asked Eloni in her mind.

_Oh, splendid. You go back to grazing, I'll just figure out who this crazy knight was._

_I can return, if you so wish._ He responded mildly.

_No, you stay. We'll both be killed if you show up. I'll be back soon, I just need to find room and board._

_Be swift. I do not like this place. _

"Are you daft?" asked the young man, turning to Linea. "What did you think you were doing?"

"I-I didn't know, exactly." she said, looking back at the procession. "Did he call me a simpleton?"

"Look, he could have called you a rabbit for all I care, you were lucky to get out of that alive. Murtagh may not be as ruthless as Galbatorix, but I've heard he doesn't like giving out favors." he said. "I'm Carver, by the way."

"Linea." she said, shaking his proffered hand. "And, thanks. You know, for helping me. Not for making me look like an idiot, though."

He shrugged. "It was look like an idiot or a beheading then and there. You take your pick."

"So who is this Murtagh?" she asked as they walked.

"You mean you don't know?" Carver asked incredulously.

"That would be the point of my question, yes." she said dryly.

"Well... it's a bit delicate, see." he said. "Murtagh is sort of the prince of the Empire."

"Galbatorix has a son?" she exclaimed, horrified.

"No! No! Well, technically, but only through adoption." he said quickly. "He's a Rider, though, like Galbatorix and that Eragon everyone's been going on about."

Linea nodded. She'd heard about Eragon before, which is where Distul had gotten the idea to steal another egg. She admired him, but knew it was a long shot to hope to meet him. "A Rider, you say? What color?"

"Er..."

She looked at him. "His dragon? What's the color of his dragon?"

"I wouldn't know. Never seen the thing myself." he said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well, his sword, then. What color is that?"

"Red." Carver answered. "Like blood. Why?"

"A Rider's sword is always the same color as his dragon." she told him. "Is that why Galbatorix took him in? Because he made one of the eggs hatch?"

He shook his head. "Nah, that came after Murtagh arrived. There are rumors, though, about who he really is. Ever heard of the Forsworn?"

Her green eyes darkened, but she otherwise showed no emotion. "Who hasn't?"

"They say he's the son of Morzan. The leader of the thirteen."

Linea sucked in a breath. "Son of Morzan... No wonder he nearly killed me. I heard that man had a vicious streak a mile wide."

"That's not the half of it." Carver continued. "Some even say he brought Eragon to his knees in battle. I think that's just talk, though. I mean, what reason would he have for sparing him?"

Her brow furrowed as she though about that. Why would he have spared the opposing Rider?

_Perhaps all Riders have a bond. _Eloni suggested. _Who are we to say there isn't?_

_If that is so, Glabatorix wouldn't have killed so many of them._

_Galbatorix is mad, on this we have both agreed._

_Then what about the thirteen others?_

_Perhaps they were, too. What other reason would you explain Murtagh's behavior?_

_I honestly wouldn't know. Son of Morzan, sparing an enemy... Something just doesn't sound right in that. _

"I'm supposing you're new here, then." Carver said. "Where are you from?"

"Originally? Bullridge. But I've been traveling for a long time." she told him.

"Oh? Where to?"

"Oh, nowhere particularly important." she said offhandedly.

"What brought you to this hell city?" he asked, looking around. "It's not exactly a place you'd go looking for home."

"No, that's not what I'm here for." she told him. Then she looked him up and down, figuring she could trust him, at least a little. "Sometimes when you're hiding, it's best to do it in plain sight."

Carver looked at her curiously. "That so?" When she nodded, the corner of his mouth quirked up a bit. "I have to go see to a few things. Why don't you stop by the King's Bowl Tavern tonight? It's by the herbalist's shop, you can't miss it. I think we have a few things to discuss."

"I'll do that." she promised, hefting the bag on her back.

"Think you can manage without me for a few hours?" he asked cheekily.

She smirked, thinking about the mark on her palm. "I think I'll be fine."

**. . .**

**So... I've started reading Inheritance, can you tell? I'm on a major Eragon kick right now, so some other things might get put on hold. I think this story takes place sometime after Brisingr, but I'm not too sure. It's whenevs. No spoilers in the reviews, please!**


	3. Elf in the Tavern

_Will you be alright?_

_Eloni, relax. I've been in taverns before, it's nothing I can't handle._

_If there is a brawl, I want to hear nothing from you about how I didn't warn you._

_It's only a few drunks._

_Are you yet strong enough to face more than one opponent?_

_I raised you, didn't I? That counts as at least four.  
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She grinned as she heard the dragon snort across the telepathic link. _Be safe_.

_I will._ She assured him, stepping into the King's Bowl Tavern. The place wasn't nearly as squalid as some she'd been in, and there were a few instrumentalists playing in the corner playing an upbeat tune. The place was crowded, but not overly so, and had a warm, welcoming feel to it. The scent of ale and hot food filled her nostrils as she looked around, searching for Carver.

"Can I help yeh, miss?" asked the bar tender, a big man with a short, white beard.

She stepped forward. "Is there a man named Carver here?" she asked.

He jerked his head toward the side. "He's over there."

Linea looked in that direction and saw Carver by himself at a table, drinking out of a pewter mug. "Thank you."

The bartender grabbed her shoulder, not roughly, but still surprising. "You'd best be careful, miss. That man's gotten himself into a fair bit of trouble over the years. It wouldn't do to get mixed up with him."

She looked him over carefully. "I can handle myself, sir," she said slowly.

He backed off, holding a hand up in surrender. "Just a word o' warnin', miss, nothin' more."

She turned away from him, once again spotting Carver and heading over.

"Ah, she arrives." he said, a smile on his face as she sat down. "I'll take this as a good sign."

"So long as you don't make any wrong moves." she told him.

"Ah, no need to worry. I've brought many women here for that reason, but that's not why I brought you." he assured her. "You! A drink for my friend, please!"

"Ah, no." she said quickly, shaking her head at the barman. "I don't drink. It tends to have... negative effects on me."

"Suit yourself." he said, shrugging. "How old are you, anyway?"

She raised an eyebrow. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

He chuckled. "Fine, fine. Keep your secrets, I don't want them." He leaned forward then. "Right. Down to business. You say you're here hiding, correct?"

"For different reasons than you, I'm sure."

He smirked. "So you've figured out I'm a dirty criminal as well."

"Takes one to know one." she told him. "That, coupled with the fact that my friend the bar tender warned me not to get mixed up with the likes of you. It was a subtle hint."

"Subtle as a cow in a dress shop." he said dryly, taking another gulp of ale. "Does that make you trust me any less."

"On the contrary." she said casually. "I think you and I understand each other perfectly. So go on. Tell me why I'm here."

He smiled at her. "Well, since you seemed so trusting of me earlier in revealing your reason for being here, I decided that you could help me with something. You're a criminal, are you not?"

"Well, that depends." she said. "A criminal takes from the good and uses it for their own gain. I only committed crimes in the name of good."

"All well and noble, but did you get the job done?"

She smiled as Eloni chuckled across their link. "I'd say so, yes."

"Did you ever steal anything?"

"I'd say so, yes."

"Anything important?"

"Oh, so very, very important."

"Really?" he asked. "What?"

"I can't tell you."

He sighed. "Linea, I can't exactly judge your talents in thieving if you don't tell me of your prizes."

"Who said I was the one doing the stealing?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow.

He gave her a confused look. "But you said-"

"You asked if I'd stolen anything." she interrupted. "I have, but I was part of a larger group. I was the archer. I stood guard outside the door and shot whoever happened to interrupt our progress."

He looked disappointed. "So... you never _actually_ took anything."

"What's the job, Carver?" she asked. "Don't doubt my abilities, I have ways of getting things done."

_Linea, what are you getting yourself into? _Eloni asked warningly.

_I can handle this. It's what I did long before you were ever around._

Carver sighed. "Fine. There's this blade. It's a sword that resides in Murtagh's weaponry, and I've seen it used for show many times. However, I wish to obtain it for myself for reasons of my own. I've only been able to scout out the area, though, and I've found this task requires more than just myself."

"Where is this weaponry?" Linea asked, leaning back in her chair.

"Just outside of Murtagh's stronghold, on the edge of the city." he said. "It's used to house guards, mostly, when they're off duty. The weaponry has two men posted outside of it at all times, but they switch at nightfall, and then again at daybreak. Always the same, every day. Now, tell me. How will you manage that?"

"Simple." she said, shrugging. "We hire a thief."

"Hey, wait, _we_?" he asked as she stood to leave.

"You're the one who pulled me into this. Are there any extra rooms here?" she asked the bar tender.

"We've got one last openin'. How long?" he asked, leaning against the counter. 

"Not sure. I'll just pay the daily fee." she told him.

"That's four crowns up front."

"Done." she said, putting the coins down. "I honestly don't see what you're getting so worked up about." she said, turning back to Carver. "I'll help far more than I hinder."

"So you're waltzing into my plans now? Just like that?" he asked.

"Why not?" she asked slyly. "Besides, admit it, you secretly want me to help you."

He smiled and shook his head. "Can I get another drink, please?"


	4. Prince in the Brush

"Eloni!" Linea whispered, darkness cloaking the world around her. "Eloni, where are you?"

Suddenly, a dark mass she'd taken for a hill moved and uncurled, revealing the shape of a massive dragon. He stood, towering above her, his silver scales muted in the night. _I am here, young one._

She sighed with relief. _Good. For a moment, I was afraid you'd left._

_You would have known._

She sighed and sat against Eloni's left foreleg. _I'm sorry you have to hide._

_It is no matter. Do what you must, and then we may leave._

She smiled. _To the Hadarac Desert._

He nuzzled her cheek. _To the Hadarac Desert._

**. . .**

The next day, Linea exited the city to find the stronghold Carver had mentioned while he posted discrete fliers advertising a need for a thief. It wasn't hard to find; a massive, black stone building on the outskirts of the capital. She watched in the shade of a nearby clump of trees and bushes, unseen by the guards. They weren't as alert as guards should be, but that was expected. It was nearly noon, so they had been posted for at least six hours already. She wouldn't want to be in their place.

_So is this how it is done?_ Eloni asked. _You sit and watch and the blade steals itself?_

_No, friend. _She answered. _I'm studying their movements, so I am not surprised by them should it come to combat._

_But they are not fighting._

_Not now, no. But a person moves the same as they fight. Whichever hand they use to scratch their nose, that is their fighting hand. How they turn when hearing a noise determines their reflexes. It is all in the detail._

_You have done this before._

_I was once a scout._

"Well, well... What do we have here?"

Linea whirled around, knocking an arrow on her bow as she did so. She came arrow tip to face with a human man, standing calmly before her. He had dark hair that hung in his face, dark, fathomless eyes, and black clothes. He was smirking at her like a fox who's just caught his dinner. "Who are you?"

"Soon to be your captor." he said, as though amused. "But... I seem to recall you from somewhere..." His eyes narrowed as he thought, then his face cleared. "Ah, right. The simpleton who stopped me in the streets yesterday. Not so simple after all, are we?"

"Try to take me, I dare you." she said lowly, her bow unwavering.

"How quaint." he smirked. "If I so wish, my guards will come to my aid and I'll never even have to touch you."

"Then call them. I'm not afraid." she said.

He looked at her. "I can see you truly aren't. Are you really the simpleton you pretended to be?"

"Perhaps." she said as they began to circle one another. "Or maybe I have tricks up my sleeve you don't know about."

"If so, I'd be very surprised not to see my guards get past them."

She smiled to herself. "You'd be surprised by a great many things, Rider."

He cocked his head at her. "Is that so? And what of you?"

"Sire, I appreciate your affinity for wordplay, truly, I do. But if you are so intent on calling your guards, why haven't you?" she asked.

"Because of only this; perhaps you are telling the truth in that you are more powerful than you may seem. I do not wish death upon my guards." he said.

"I'm sure you'll find you have some to spare." she shot back.

"And what then? The ensuing battle would be pointless." he said easily. "Besides, you are an interesting creature. Perhaps not interesting enough that I will spare you should you trespass again, but enough that I'll spare you this once."

"Or is it I that is sparing you?" she questioned, making him laugh.

"You have a brave heart, elf, but I am afraid that will not save you from my wrath. Pray we do not meet again."

She watched as he vanished into the shadows, and never once let her bow waver from its target.

_That did not seem very practiced._

_I'm normally not caught._

**. . .**

Later that day, as she was pouring over a few old maps when there was a knock at her door. "Enter." she called.

Carver pushed his way into the room, then took a look around. "Doesn't take you long to unpack, does it?"

"It's just papers." she said, glancing at the spread around her room. "Did you find a good thief?"

"Well, that's what I'm here about." he answered, looking down at her. "We're now holding auditions."

"Auditions? No, I told you to just find a thief, it isn't that hard."

"There were a lot of offers."

She sighed. "They're all down there, aren't they?"

"I thought it best if we did this quickly before patrons start missing purses."

"Right, then." She stood and replaced the belt onto her hips. "Let's go hire us a thief."


End file.
